


One of Your French

by novembur



Category: To All the Boys I've Loved Before Series - Jenny Han, To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Artists, F/M, Oblivious Lara Jean Song-Covey, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, WIP, and he's something else, lara jean's a "struggling artist", peter is her model
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-09-24 19:13:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17106512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novembur/pseuds/novembur
Summary: Chapter 3 Preview:"She woke up feeling squished and having no recollection of where she was in the nearly pitch-black room. When she came to, she realized she was in Peter Kavinsky’s apartment, in Peter Kavinsky bedroom, with Peter Kavinsky’s arms wrapped around her, and her head tucked into Peter Kavinsky's chest. It took everything she had not to scream into Peter Kavinsky’s defined chest."





	1. Chapter 1

Lara Jean awoke to three brief resounding knocks followed by a “Coming in,” shouted in the same way one would shout “Bombs away!” ‘Chris,’ she thought to herself.

To an outsider, her room looked like a crime scene. Unfinished pencil sketches, red paint splatters, failed attempts at origami, and various other “obscenities”– as her sister would call them, cluttered her already cramped apartment. On Lara Jean’s once-white-turned-light-beige desk slumped what appeared to be the corpse of Lara Jean herself. 

She sprawled over a stack of papers that rivaled Mount Everest. Her hair was tied in a messy bun that managed to migrate from the top of her head to the nape of her neck while she slept. Her crooked glasses were one lean away from slipping off the tip of her nose and onto the garbage littered floor where they would become one with the chaos.

To Chris, this violation of a health code embodied in an apartment was just Lara Jean being Lara Jean. 

To Lara Jean, this cozy nook was home. 

To everyone else, it was a crime scene which was a justifiable and fair assumption.

“I have a surprise for you,” Chris sung as she opened up the door Lara Jean forgot to lock. She spotted a well-worn black leather boot and a fishnetted leg peeking out of the doorframe. It was a welcome sight for Lara Jean who saluted anyone who took the time to visit her war zone of a home.

“What’s the sur-” she stopped mid-sentence when she saw that Chris wasn't the only one walking into her apartment. A robed man trailed behind her. Lara Jean quickly stood up and placed a hand on her desk to steady herself. Her sleep-deprived brain put two and two together.

“Your surprise is a prostitute?” She gasped, her voice cracking at the end of her exclamation. 

“What the hell? I’m not a prostitute!” The man yelled.

Chris cackled wildly. She leaned onto the man for balance. She gasped in between laughs as she struggled to catch her breath. Finally, she composed herself and straightened up after nearly falling over three times. “He’s not a prostitute.”

Lara Jean narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the man.

“I'm not a prostitute!”

“I swear he’s not a prostitute. Don't you think I'd get you a better prostitute than him?”

The man’s mouth fell agape. “I've been insulted more in these couple seconds than I’ve ever been in my life. I am not a prostitute,” he emphasized, looking at Lara Jean. “But if I was,” he continued, looking at Chris, “I’d be one of the best.”

“Sure, PK,” Chris snorted.

“What do you mean ‘Sure?’’ I’d make a great prostitute if I wanted to. You know I'd have the drive. And I’d be self-employed.” 

“Nope, if you’re a ‘fantastic’ prostitute in this scenario, it'd only be because of your pimp.” Chris explained, “Which would be me.” She gestured to herself.

“Why would you be my pimp? I'm basically your cousin.

“LJ, don't you think I'd be his pimp?”

Lara Jean felt lightheaded. Was this a dream? A really weird dream? She still didn't know who this robed mystery man was and why he stood in the middle of her apartment talking about prostitution.

“I don't know what to think! I don't know who this guy is, or why you’ve invited him to my apartment, or if you'd be his ‘pimp’,” she sighed.

“This is Peter. He’s your model.” Chris explained. 

“Look,” Lara Jean turned towards Peter. “I feel bad that Chris brought you into this scenario,” she gave a quick scowl to Chris, “But you can't be my model. I don't really have the money to pay you…” She trailed off, her embarrassed gaze found its way to the floor.

“You don't have to pay me.” Peter spoke up. Lara Jean’s eyes widened. Her face turned quizzical. Peter must’ve noticed her questioning stare as he quickly continued, “I owe her a favor.” He tilted his head towards Chris.

Lara Jean shook her head and put her hands up. “I'm not going to let you work for free. I never even asked for a model.”

“Believe me, this was a lot better than the other ‘favors’ Chris had in mind. Just think of this as an IOU– or a ‘you owe I.’ You get what I'm saying.”

She eyed him suspiciously. Having a volunteer model seemed too good to be true. Of course he’d be a source inspiration, but could she really let him do this? 

“He’s not kidding,” Chris joined in. “I had much worse in mind for him. Don't worry about paying him. He’s got a very steady income. Trust me. The showcase is coming up and I wanna be able to feature the best artist I know.”

Coming from Chris, that meant a lot considering the amount of art-school-kids she hooked up with. As much as she was suspicious of Peter, she knew that Chris would have her best interest in mind. Her friend had been trying to “inspire” her for a while now while constantly reminding her that the showcase was looming over her head. 

“Just think about, okay?” Chris said, getting ready to leave. She tugged on Peter’s robe sleeve to follow her.

“Okay,” Lara Jean promised half-heartedly.

Chris walked out of the door and Peter followed her. Just before he closed the door he reached out a hand to lock it. He turned to look at her. “See you, Lara Jean.”

“Bye, Peter.”

The slam of the door was a welcomed sound to Lara Jean’s ears. She slowly sunk back into the seat at her desk with a soft thud.

She picked up her phone from her desk, went to her recents, and tapped “Gogo.”

“Margot, you won’t believe–”


	2. Chapter 2

Lara Jean laid on her bed, staring up at her phone. She repeated the notorious cycle of typing out a few words and deleting them before they could be sent. Some of those unsent messages included, but were not limited to:

Hey Peter, this is Lara Jean. What’s up?

Hey Peter, this is Lara Jean. How are you?

This is Lara Jean. Hi!

She typed another:

Hi Peter. -Lara Jean

A buzz accompanied by a ringtone startled her, causing the cell phone to nearly fall on her face. The contact name “Peter” flashed across the screen. She accepted the call and held it up to her ear.

“Hi,” “Hey Lara Jean,”

They paused when they realized they were speaking over each other.

“Sorry-” “Sorry-”

They did it again. Lara Jean started to laugh. She heard Peter join in. Mentally, she prepared herself for the awkward conversation bound to follow such an awkward introduction.

“Chris gave me your number. I figured I should call to find out if we’re going to do this or not.”

“I think we should.” She admitted.

“Yeah?” Lara Jean could hear Peter’s smile through the phone which made her smile in turn.

“Yeah.” Her smile stretched a little further. This was really happening. It took Margot chastising her for two hours via Skype call, but her sister managed to sell her the “idea of Peter.” Margot made sure to let her know that it would be “really stupid” (a phrase repeated more than 30 times during the duration of their call) not to take advantage of the opportunity. Eventually, Lara Jean caved.

If she was being honest, she didn't just “cave.” Margot gave her an excuse to happily accept the offer. She could find a million excuses to refuse it:

He could be a murderer. Or a sick joke being pulled on her by Chris’ cousin, Gen. Or a nudist because who shows up to a strangers apartment in what appeared to be only a robe? She guessed she would be finding out soon enough.

“When do you want to start this? When should I come over?” 

She feigned consideration as she mentally ran through her empty calendar. “How about tomorrow at one?” That would give her ample time to “clean-up” which meant shoving things into corners unknown.

“I’ll be there.”

-

Lara Jean heard knocking at her door as she shoved an old canvas drop cloth underneath her sofa. Part of it stuck out from its hiding place, but you wouldn't notice it if you were sitting on the couch. She stood up and surveyed her work. She wondered how a “clean” room could still look so messy.

“Is the door unlocked? Can I come in?” Peter shouted from behind the door.

She looked to the door and saw that she forgot to lock it again. She couldn't give Peter the satisfaction of knowing that so she lept to the door before it could be opened. She leaned on the doorframe for support after her uncoordinated and almost unsuccessful land. She pushed a strand of hair that had fallen out of her ponytail away from her face before opening the door.

“Hey,” Lara Jean said with an upwards tilt of the head and a slight eyebrow raise in an attempt to remain as cool, calm, and collected as possible. She hoped Peter couldn't see the fine sheen of sweat that inevitably appeared whenever she performed any sort of physical activity– cleaning included.

She watched as Peter grinned widely and realized it wasn't as cool, calm, or collected as she thought it was. “Smooth,” he snickered. 

She moved until her back was pressed up against the door, pushing it open so he could come in. “Thanks,” she mumbled as he passed by her. She noticed he was wearing that dark blue robe again. She debated whether or not she should ask him if owned a pair of clothes. “So that robe of yours…” She walked to the easel and canvas she set up.

“Yeah?” Peter stood in front of the easel. “I thought it'd be appropriate.” 

“Okay,” Maybe he thought painting a robe instead of clothing– which he would hopefully change everyday– would be easier for her. “Good thinking.”

“Thanks,” he laughed, “I figured it’d be more legal than the other option.”

She didn't know what he alluded to so she laughed awkwardly with him. 

“You ready?” He asked as she finally sat down at her stool after setting things up. She nodded in confirmation. He untied the robe and opened it. Lara Jean screamed.

“Peter!” She covered her eyes and turned away. “What are you doing? Are you flashing me?” She yelled.

“Am I- Am I what?” She never heard a guy’s voice go that high. She could hear him fumbling with his robe. “What are you talking about? You asked me to be your model!” He sputtered.

“Not a nude model!” She wanted to sink into a hole. Peter was never, ever, coming back to “model.” “I knew you were a prostitute!”

“For the last time, I'm not a prostitute!” She finally looked up to see Peter’s fists shaking at his sides. His face was beet-red. “Chris said you wanted a nude model!”

“Oh my god,” Lara Jean groaned, covering her face again. “Oh my god,” she groaned louder. “Chris lied to you. I didn't- I- You just got naked in my apartment- I need some water.” She fled into the kitchen to catch her breath. Her head was spinning. She couldn't remember the last time she was alone in her apartment with a man who wasn't her dad. And she certainly never had a man openly strip in her living room before. She couldn't wait to call Chris and yell at her.

The prior events replayed in her head as she reached for a glass from her cupboard. The last thing she felt before passing out was hitting the kitchen tiles with a thud.

-

When Lara Jean came to, she saw Peter’s face looming over her’s. He bore a concerned expression that confused her. “Peter? What's wrong?” She slowly sat up.

Suddenly, her memories came crashing into her. “Oh my god,” she groaned, falling back down. Her hands covered her flushed face.

Peter leaned back. “Are you okay?”

Lara Jean groaned intelligibility in response.

The room fell into a silence which she swore lasted for hours before Peter spoke up. “Not to go off topic, but have you eaten yet?”

A muffled “No,” could be heard behind Lara Jean’s hands. Maybe something to eat would prevent her from fainting again. 

“You have stuff to make here?”

She quickly sat up– which made her a little dizzy, “No.” She shook her head. She couldn't have a naked Peter in her apartment for any longer. She needed some air. 

“Okay, let’s go out then,” he suggested. Preferably, she would've dined alone and not with this nude model, but they both needed to clear up some things if their model arrangement was going to happen at all. She wondered if that should even be considered given their recent events. “I know the perfect place.”

-

Peter’s “perfect place” was a cute little diner. It looked like a family owned business that had been around for a while. The food looked delicious too. Lara Jean had to make an effort not to stare at the mouth watering cakes on display. Instead, she turned her attention to Peter.

He no longer wore that dreadful robe. He was fully-clothed in a blue t-shirt and tan pants which he stopped by his apartment to change into before they went to the diner. That’s when she learned he lived two floors below her.

Maybe it was the way Peter made a point to remember the waitress’ name or “If You Were Here” playing in the restaurant and reminding her of Sixteen Candles. Whatever it was, it made Lara Jean realize how good-looking Peter was. She noticed it before, but without any panicking, shouting, or robe to distract her, she could clearly take him in. He had this boyish-handsomeness about him. He looked like your typical “Prince Charming.”

It made her conscious of her own appearance. She began to tie her hair up. She let it down after the wind had whipped her ponytail around on their walk here. She noticed Peter looking at her with a slight frown. Did he catch her staring?

“Your hair looks nice down.”

“Oh,” she stopped tying it up for a second. It'd be easier to keep it down anyways. 

The waitress came back with their food. It looked just as appetizing as the cakes on display. She marveled at the heaping pile of onion rings that came with her chicken sandwich. 

“This is a good place, right?” Peter said in between mouthfuls of french fries. 

Lara Jean took a couple bites of her food, “Yeah, the food’s great.”

“Does it make up for earlier?”

She sighed loudly, her face scrunching up, “Did you have to bring it up again?”

“Yes,” Peter cried. “I feel really bad. I never would've…” He cleared his throat, “Uh- exposed myself like that. Chris made it sound like-”

“Chris does that sort of thing. A lot.”

“Yeah, I've noticed.”

“So, do you still wanna do this?”

He was quick to answer with “Of course I do,” he paused, “do you still want to?”

“I do, but…” She trailed off, thinking. “We should have some ground rules.” She wanted to prevent something like that from ever happening again.

“Fair enough,” he leaned back into his chair, “like what?”

“First, I want to know more about you.” 

“I'm an open book, what do you want to know?”

Lara Jean leaned forward as she began her interrogation. “What's your name?”

“Peter. Was that a baseline question?”

She laughed, “No, I mean what’s your last name?”

“Kavinsky.”

“How old are you?”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Peter held up a hand. “We’ve gotta make this fair. Everything that you ask me, you have to answer too. I don't know anything about you either.”

“Fair enough,” she nodded. “I’m Lara Jean Song Covey.”

“Long name.”

“Not much longer than Peter Kavinsky.”

“You're not wrong.”

“How old are you, Peter Kavinsky?”

“Twenty-two. How old are you, Lara Jean Covey Song.”

“Song Covey,” she corrected. “And twenty-one.”

“Do you have a job?”

“I do.”

“What is it?” 

“I work in entertainment,” Peter answered quickly, “and you?”

“Me too, I guess. I’m an artist. I know you might not be able to tell now,” He had yet to see any of her finished works and she wondered if Chris’ “glowing praise” was suffice. “But-”

“I can.” He assured.

“What's your family like? Any siblings?”

“Yeah, Owen. He’s a younger brother. You?”

“I have an older and a younger sibling. Margot and Kitty.”

“Your parents named her Kitty?”

“No,” she laughed. “It's short for Katherine.”

“How old is she?”

“She’s fourteen.”

“My brother’s the same age.” 

“I wonder if they'd get along.”

“Maybe,” Peter shrugged as he finished his fries. “Are you done with the first date questions?”

Lara Jean knew he was joking, but the implication made her slightly flustered. She rolled her eyes. “Let’s talk about the rules then. Employer to employee.”

“Oh, so I'm your employee?” Peter quirked an eyebrow.

“Technically, wouldn't you be?”

“Technically, I'm a volunteer.” He countered.

She hummed in thought. “You're right. As my volunteer, these rules still apply…”

He laughed, “Your volunteer?”

“Yes, what else should I call you?”

“No, that works. I just didn't know you could be so possessive, Covey.” 

She scoffed. “Whatever, Kavinsky.” Even if he was a volunteer, she still wanted to repay him somehow, “You know I can't pay you in cash, but I can pay you in meals. If you bring the ingredients, I can cook for you.” She suggested.

“That seems fair. When you cook, I'll be on dish duty.” 

“Another thing, you're done with that robe, right?” 

It was Peter’s turn to become flustered. “Yes! It was just a big misunderstanding!”

“I had to confirm.” She nodded to herself. “This goes without saying, but you can come whenever you feel free to. Your ‘hours’ are up to you.”

“Thanks, boss.”

“You're welcome. Is there anything else you want to add?”

She watched as Peter thought about it for a moment. “I can't think of anything yet.”

“Alright then, I think we’ve settled things for now.”

“I look forward to working with you, Ms. Covey.” Peter said, holding his hand out across the table.

Lara Jean shook it, “You as well, Mr. Kavinsky.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for the read! as usual, please let me know if there are any errors


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lara Jean takes care of sick Peter, runs into Gen, and sees something she wishes she hadn't.
> 
> And she's as oblivious as ever.

Lara Jean anxiously twirled her hair around her finger as another hour passed. She glanced down at her phone to confirm her suspicion. 

It was 4 o’clock and Peter still hadn't shown up to the session he’d promised to be at. With anyone else, she wouldn't have thought anything of it. Being late was a part of Chris and Lucas’ nature. Peter, however, always let her know if he was even going to be fifteen minutes late. To let hours go by without a single word was completely unlike him. She couldn't shake the feeling that something bad had happened. 

Defying her better judgment, she decided to march downstairs and uncover the truth.

Lara Jean heard her door slam behind her as she shuffled down the stairs. She quickly found herself in front of Peter’s door and knocked without thinking.

Her anxiety grew when he didn't answer the door, but she could still hear the TV on from inside his apartment. Maybe he just didn't want to see her? Maybe he had a girl over? Maybe– no– certainly she looked like a creepy stalker standing in front of his door with her glasses sliding onto the tip of her nose and her hair pulled into a messy lump (because calling it a “bun” would be an overstatement).

Lara Jean turned to walk back upstairs when she heard the door creaking open. 

A barely-there voice muttered “Covey.” It sounded foreign to her, but no one else had given her that nickname. 

When she turned around, she realized who the new voice had come from. Peter's color had completely drained from his face. His hair stuck up in every which way and his eyes looked nearly swollen shut, sunken into his face. Her eyes dropped down to find he wore the infamous blue robe. She got chills as the memory of it appeared in the forefront of her mind. Relief flooded her as she noticed he wore grey sweatpants and a fitted black t-shirt underneath the cursed robe.

However, her nerves didn't completely disappear because Peter looked unlike she had ever seen him before.

“Are you okay?” She asked, moving closer to get a better look at him.

“Yeah,” he let out slowly, rubbing his temple. “Did something happened? You're early, aren't you?”

“Peter… It’s four PM.”

“No way!” His exclamation was weaker and less passionate than normal from the Kavinsky she’d grown accustomed to.

“Were you sleeping all day?”

“Besides going to the doctor’s this morning, yeah.”

“Good. You look like you still need the rest. Did you eat anything yet?”

When he shook his head, she felt a wave of excitement come over her. She wasn't one to brag, but she had to admit she'd become quite the expert at care-taking.

Many-a-time her father was on call and had to leave the house. Soon-to-be-born infants couldn't wait for her father to deal with the flu, stomach aches, or whatever ailment plagued the Song Sisters. When Doctor Covey couldn't be there, Doctor Lara Jean was on duty. 

She made colds as tolerable as they could be. Her prescription included rest, a movie marathon, lots of fluids (including hot chocolate), and her famous chicken noodle soup. 

“Lay back down. I'm gonna make you some chicken noodle soup.” Lara Jean commanded, moving into Peter’s kitchen like a conqueror moving into their newly claimed territory. 

“I couldn’t make you do that–” Peter stopped mid-sentence when he realized she'd already begun raiding his pantries . 

She brushed it off with a dismissive tsk. “You're not making me do anything. I love cooking.”

Peter's sick-chuckle came out raspy. “I'm learning something new about you,” he hummed contentedly.

“You wanna know something else? Something that would make me really happy?” She asked with her back turned to him as she stood up on her tiptoes to peer into his cabinets. 

“What is it?”

“You going back to bed.” She stated firmly.

“Fine, fine,” he sighed, “but I owe you.”

“I already owe you for being my model. Let's just call it even.”

“No,” the seriousness in his voice surprised her. “I'm saving that favor.”

“Whatever you say, Kavinsky.” Lara Jean watched as he headed into his bedroom.

Struggling to reach the noodles in the high cabinet, she climbed up onto the counter. She thought nothing of it, scaling kitchen counters was commonplace for her.

“Woah, woah, woah, woah,” she heard Peter’s footsteps coming from his bedroom. He must've heard her making noise.

“Sorry!” She quickly moved to get back down, realizing she should've thought before climbing up on someone else's furniture. “I'll get down, just go get some rest.”

“No, I want to help you. You'll hurt yourself like that.”

“You're too sick.”

“I'm not.” She expected Peter to reach up into the and get the noodles for her, but instead she felt his hands upon her waist. “If you're gonna act like my kitchen’s Mount Everest, let me help you out,” he chuckled, the air tickling the nape of her neck.

She quickly got the package and turned around. She sat on top of the counter with her legs hanging down. Peter faced her, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. She glanced down to his hands at his side.

He caught her glance and put a hand beside each side of her on the counter. He moved a little closer. She clutched the package of egg noodles to her chest a little harder.

“You know, the doctor said I'm not contagious.”

“Cool.” She winced at her anything but “cool” reply. More color drained from his already pale face as he moved away from her, heading towards his bedroom.

“I'm gonna take your advice and get some rest.”

Lara Jean unconsciously held on to the noodle bag a bit harder as she watched him leave. She jumped when it popped. 

-

She made the chicken noodle soup in a haze. Her mind kept going back to Peter and the dejected expression on his face. 

Was he really that embarrassed by her use of the word “cool?” Or was she missing something?

Lara Jean picked up a bowl of the soup and carried it into Peter’s room where she found him fast asleep. She gingerly sat it on his bedside table, debating on whether or not to write him a note for when he woke up. She decided on lightly tapping his arm to see if he was awake. When he didn't wake up, she turned to leave.

“Hey-” she heard the weak, raspy voice of sick-Peter again.

“Hm?” She turned back around.

“Thanks, Covey.”

“Anytime, Kavinsky. Just being a good boss.”

He shook his head. “Hey-” he stopped himself from finishing whatever he was about to say.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, nevermind. I'm gonna get some rest.”

“Oh, okay.” She shrugged. “Sleep well, Peter.”

Her shoulders jumped when she felt a clammy hand grab loose hold of her wrist. She whipped around to see sick Peter giving her a lopsided smile. “...Like I said, I’m not contagious,” he mumbled.

“That's good…” Her eyes trailed down to her wrist still in Peter’s grasp. 

“What I mean is–” he paused, “I’d feel better if you'd stay with me.” Truthfully, she’d feel better too. Because Peter was sick and she wanted to keep an eye on him, of course– no other reason. 

“Okay… If it would make you feel better,” she walked over to the other side of his bed, his hand falling from her wrist. She sat down, keeping a considerable distance between them as a proper “boss” would. 

Lara Jean watched as Peter closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, before she knew it, she was doing the same.

-

She woke up feeling squished and having no recollection of where she was in the nearly pitch-black room. When she came to, she realized she was in Peter Kavinsky’s apartment, in Peter Kavinsky bedroom, with Peter Kavinsky’s arms wrapped around her, and her head tucked into Peter Kavinsky's chest. It took everything she had not to scream into Peter Kavinsky’s defined chest. 

Stealthily-sneaking-out-be-damned, Lara Jean crawled out of Peter’s grasp and out of the bed as quickly as she could. She ran out of his apartment and upstairs into her own. She stood with her back against her door, trying to catch her breath.

The line between employee and employer had definitely been crossed, but she continued to convince herself that they only “platonically cuddled.” Admittedly, she didn't mind being in that “platonic position” with her employee. However, the hammering of her heart told her she more than “didn't mind.” 

She couldn't let go the feeling that she har  
done her first walk of shame as she left Peter’s apartment and headed up to her own. 

-

Weeks after the unspeakable incident, Peter hadn't shown up to her apartment again. Lara Jean assumed he'd gotten sick this time as well. She took this opportunity to fix their tainted work relationship.

She made him chicken noodle soup again like a good boss who kept a respectable distance from her employee would. She stood in front of his apartment, knocking on the door with her soup in-hand. To her surprise, Peter didn't answer the door. Instead, Gen, Chris’ cousin met Lara Jean’s smile with a deep frown. Gen’s frown turned into a scowl when she realized Lara Jean stood in front of her.

“What do you want, Lara Jean?”

Nice to see you too, Genevieve.

She ignored her remark, asking, “Is Peter home?” She tried to look passed the blonde into the apartment. 

“What would he want with you?” Gen laughed in Lara Jean’s face.

Lara Jean rolled her eyes. Gen hadn't changed a bit. “Just tell him I stopped by. And give him this,” she handed her the container of soup. Before Gen could add in another snarky remark, she left. 

She wondered why Gen would be in Peter’s apartment– alone at that–until she put two and two together: Peter and Gen were dating. 

No wonder him and Chris new each other. She recalled Peter’s “I’m basically your cousin” remark to Chris. She knew Peter and Gen were adults and could date whoever they wanted. 

But she couldn't help her disappointment from the realization that they were dating one another.

-

Lara Jean carried a bag of paint supplies close to her side to avoid hitting people on the crowded sidewalk. Amidst the crowd, she spotted Peter ahead when he briefly turned around. He didn't seem to spot her so she walked a little quicker to catch up to him.

Before she could, he turned into a building with a blue neon sign attached to it. Its words read “BLUE DIAMOND,” and underneath, “Club and Lounge.” 

Peter Kavinsky had gone into a strip club alone– while he was dating Gen. Sure, going to a strip club might not technically be cheating, but she was sure Gen wouldn't want him going to one. She had severe jealousy issues, after all. Lara Jean learned that firsthand when Gen slapped her for “making eyes” at her boyfriend during Chris’ 12th birthday party.

She didn't know what to do. On one hand, if she was in Gen’s position, she would want to know. On the other, Gen was a terrible person.

Luckily, she knew two people would know exactly what to do. She pulled out her phone and texted Chris and Lucas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about not updating for a minute, but im back! thank u everyone who stuck around and the new readers, i hope u guys are enjoying this story so far. as always, please let me know if there are any errors

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed this, thank you for the read! please let me know if you find any errors


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